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 box. Mr. Jennison glanced at the hotel register with an air of indifference,

"Are those young fellows that were on the steamer—the two that were thought drowned—still with you? I read about the thing a while ago in the paper."

"Yes; I disguised the names on the register there to oblige them. 'Mr. Philip and brother.' Odd circumstance. They haven't heard from their folks yet. Queerer still."

"They haven't?" asked Mr. Jennison. He twisted his mustache and pored over the book. Suddenly he looked up as Joe brought the cigars for his selection, and said, Mr. Philip and brother.' I think I have some recollection about that name. I wonder if—" He stopped, and cut and lighted the cigar deliberately.

"By the bye, one of them, the elder, inquired after you and your friend Mr. Belmont. I forgot it, I declare!"

"Inquired after me? After that Mr. Belmont who happened to be with me? I hardly know Belmont. That's singular. But they may have heard my name. Describe them to me, if you please, Mr. Banger."

Whatever in this dialogue was acting would